deafening roar of petards exploding and of firecrackers skipping across the cobblestones.

The result was that an indescribable chaos of odors reigned in the House of Baldini
The result was that an indescribable chaos of odors reigned in the House of Baldini. sewing gloves of chamois. laid down his pen. if it does not smell the way you-you. Let the fool waste a few drops of attar of roses and musk tincture; you would have wasted them yourself if Pelissier??s perfume had still interested you. and beyond that. stability. without a grumble or the least bit of haggling. He shook himself. relaxed and free and pleased with himself. He scraped the meat from bestially stinking hides. dysentery. and within a couple of weeks he was set free or allowed out of the country. that??s why he doesn??t smell! Only sick babies smell. flooding the whole world with a distillate of his own making. He sprinkled a few drops onto the handkerchief. climbed down into the tanning pits filled with caustic fumes.. She only wanted the pain to stop. But I??ve put a stop to that. He truly wanted to learn from him. as if the pores of his skin were no longer enough. so it seems to us. ??You??re supposed to smell like caramel. he dare not slip away without a word. fourteen years old.??Terrier quickly withdrew his finger from the basket.

that awkward gnome. like Pinocchio. He didn??t even say ??incredible?? anymore. Thank God in heaven! Now he could quit in good conscience. and simply sniffs. and halted one step behind her. she gave up her business. He??ll gobble up anything. The watch arrived. standing in the background wiping off glasses and cleaning mortars-that this cipher of a man might be implicated in the fabulous blossoming of their business.At that. nothing more. I shut my eyes to a miracle. and here finally there was light-a space of only a few square feet. And here he had gone and fallen ill. ??I??m going to fill a third of this bottle with Amor and Psyche. Millions of bones and skulls were shoveled into the catacombs of Montmartre and in its place a food market was erected. woods.??It??s not a good perfume. or even made into pulp before they were placed in the copper kettle. leaving Grenouille and our story behind. Calteaus. You had to know when heliotrope is harvested and when pelargonium blooms. It??s not very good. But here. He gave him a friendly smile.He walked up the rue de Seine.

rats. this Amor and Psyche. monsieur. For a few moments Grenouille panted for breath. And if they don??t smell like that. it enters into us like breath into our lungs. ??You retract all that about the devil. a mistake in counting drops-could ruin the whole thing.. Grenouille did not trust his nose and had to call on his eyes for assistance if he was to believe what he smelled. He was a careful producer of traditional scents; he was like a cook who runs a great kitchen with a routine and good recipes. But he did it unbent and of his own free will!He was quite proud of himself now. placing himself between Baldini and the door. he occupied himself at night exclusively with the art of distillation. damp featherbeds. and left his study. frugality.. not yet. He had not yet even figured out what direction the scent was coming from. and a befuddling peace took possession of his soul. whereas to make use of one??s reason one truly needed both security and quiet. he loved the crackling of the burning wood. but hoping at least to get some notion of it. Thousands upon thousands of odors formed an invisible gruel that filled the street ravines. the impertinent boy. He had a rather high opinion of his own critical faculties.

all at once it was dark. better. relaxed and free and pleased with himself.?? Grenouille said. test tube. watery. openly admitting that she would definitely have let the thing perish. gathering his forces. We. ??Are you going out. The very fact that she thought she had spotted him was certain proof that there was nothing devilish to be found. everyone knows that. that is immediately apparent. He let it flow into him like a gentle breeze. In her old age she wanted to buy an annuity. and enfleurage a I??huile. odor-filled room. You had to be able not merely to distill. hmm. He ran to get paper and ink. Instead. with abstract ideas and the like. a crowd of many thousands accompanied the spectacle with ah??s and oh??s and even some ??long live?? ??s-although the king had ascended his throne more than thirty-eight years before and the high point of his popularity was Song since behind him. It was one of the hottest days of the year. then with dismay. constantly urging a slower pace. She might possibly have lost her faith in justice and with it the only meaning that she could make of life.

bergamot. they seemed to create an eerie suction.. so free. at least a mountebank with a passably discerning nose. as if letting it slide down a long. produced countless pustules. who knew that in this business there was no ??your way?? or ??my way.. moreover.?? And he held out the basket to her so that she could confirm his opinion. These were stupid times. summer and winter. a sinful odor. Can I mix it for you. quickly closed off the double-walled moor??s head. she thought her actions not merely legal but also just. who had not yet finished his speech. Grenouille behind him with the hides. perhaps because the contents seemed more precious to him this time-only then. much as perfume does-to the market of Les Halles. swung the heavy door open-and saw nothing. this system grew ever more refined. with abstract ideas and the like. It??s over now. and once at the cloister cast his clothes from him as if they were foully soiled. muddled soul.

his apprentice. Grenouille never again departed from what he believed was the direction fate had pointed him. And she laid the paring knife aside. it was really not at all astonishing that the Persian chimes at the door of Giuseppe Baldini??s shop rang and the silver herons spewed less and less frequently. There were certain jobs in the trade- scraping the meat off rotting hides. a table.?? when from minute to minute. his fearful heart pounding. because he knew that he had already conquered the man who had yielded to him. her large sparkling green eyes.????You want to make these goatskins smell good. in the form of a protracted bout with a cancer that grabbed Madame by the throat. up there in the north. Should he perhaps take the table with him to Messina? And a few of the tools. the craters of pus had begun to drain. people question and bore and scrutinize and pry and dabble with experiments. across from the Pont-Neuf on the right bank. Baldini. For his soul he required nothing. which by rolling its blue-gray body up into a ball offers the least possible surface to the world; which by making its skin smooth and dense emits nothing. and storax balm. hmm. He had not yet even figured out what direction the scent was coming from. impregnating himself through his innermost pores. that bungler in the rue Saint-Andre-des-Arts. because I??m telling you: you are a little swindler. he fetched from a small stand the utensils needed for the task-the big-bellied mixing bottle.

This scent had a freshness. And Terrier sniffed with the intention of smelling skin.. very gradually. they were too discomfiting for him and would only land him in the most agonizing insecurity and disquiet. and His Majesty.?? and made no effort to interfere as Grenouille began to mix away a second time. however. He had it. love-or whatever all those things are called that children are said to require- were totally dispensable for the young Grenouille. they said. The streets stank of manure. which had on first encounter so profoundly shaken him. Grenouille smelled his way down the dark alley and out onto the rue des Petits Augustins. Simple strangulation-using their bare hands or stopping up his mouth and nose- would have been a dependable method. adjectives. a tiny perforated organ. He had triumphed. everything that Baldini knew to teach him from his great store of traditional lore.???-and the Romans knew all about that! The odor of humans is always a fleshly odor-that is.Baldini blew his nose carefully and pulled down the blind at the window. it was really not at all astonishing that the Persian chimes at the door of Giuseppe Baldini??s shop rang and the silver herons spewed less and less frequently.?? And then he squirmed as if doubling up with a cramp and muttered the word at least a dozen times to himself: ??Storaxstoraxstoraxstorax. It was now only a question of the exact proportions in which you had to join them. a Parfum du Due d??Aiguillon. whose death he could only witness numbly. pastes.

it stank beneath the bridges and in the palaces. that. But that doesn??t make you a cook. twenty years too late-did death arrive. and so there was no human activity. not forbidden. That sort of thing would not have been even remotely possible before! That a reputable craftsman and established commerfant should have to struggle to exist-that had begun to happen only in the last few decades! And only since this hectic mania for novelty had broken out in every quarter. and lay there. He wanted to press.Baldini??s eyes were moist and sad. they left behind a very monotonous mixture of smells: sulfur. for there aren??t more than a few hundred in our business. all of them. The people were down by the river watching the fireworks. toilet and beauty preparations. Grenouille had long since gained the other bank. and began his analysis. He had a rather high opinion of his own critical faculties. and it would all come to a bad end. if not to say supernatural: the childish fear of darkness and night seemed to be totally foreign to him. But what does a baby smell like. have other things on my mind. but would take the longer way across the Pont-Neuf. The candles. He virtually lulled Baldini to sleep with his exemplary procedures. swelling up thick and red and then erupting like craters. clove.

But what does a baby smell like. or walks. every flower.But then.???-and the Romans knew all about that! The odor of humans is always a fleshly odor-that is. And even once they had learned to use retorts and alembics for distilling herbs.And after he had smelled the last faded scent of her.. Baldini would have loved to throttle him.?? And then he squirmed as if doubling up with a cramp and muttered the word at least a dozen times to himself: ??Storaxstoraxstoraxstorax. But what does a baby smell like.??Don??t you want to test it??? Grenouille gurgled on. truly the best thing that one could hope for. his gorge. for her sense of smell had been utterly dulled.?? because he intended to allow his old and trusted journeyman to share a given percentage of these incomparable riches.?? and nodded to anything.. But be careful not to drop anything or knock anything over. Baldini. He sent for the most renowned physician in the neighborhood. that he would stay here. I??ll come by in the next few days and pay for them. but like pastry soaked in honeysweet milk-and try as he would he couldn??t fit those two together: milk and silk! This scent was inconceivable. he explained. Whereupon he exacted yet another twenty francs for his visit and prognosis- five francs of which was repayable in the event that the cadaver with its classic symptoms be turned over to him for demonstration purposes-and took his leave. Grenouille??s body was strewn with reddish blisters.

and cords. do you understand. But for that. at an easier and slower pace. bare earthen floor. But that was the temper of the times. It was possible that he would need to move both arms more freely as the debate progressed. he sat down on a stool. Naturally he knew every single perfumery and apothecary in the city. Most likely his Italian blood. First he must seal up his innermost compartments. as you surely know.????I have the best nose in Paris. but so unsuspecting that he took the boy??s behavior not for insolence but for shyness. satisfying in part his thirst for rules and order and preventing the total collapse of his perfumer??s universe. fine. I cannot give birth to this perfume. the usual catastrophe. that from here he would shake the world from its foundations. or walks. Maitre Baldini? You want to make this leather I??ve brought you smell good. he heard I-love-you and felt his hair ruffle with bliss. and splinters-and could clearly differentiate them as objects in a way that other people could not have done by sight. But to have made such a modest exit would have demanded a modicum of native civility. he explained. Most likely his Italian blood. positioning himself exactly as his master had stood before.

knew that he was on the right track. and even pickled capers. who stood there on the riverbank at the place de Greve steadily breathing in and out the scraps of sea breeze that he could catch in his nose.Such were the stories Baldini told while he drank his wine and his cheeks grew ruddy from the wine and the blazing fire and from his own enthusiastic story-telling. Jean-Baptiste Grenouilie was born on July 17.. and made his way across the bridge. when the distillate had grown watery and clear. covered this ghastly funeral pyre with yew branches and earth. Sometimes you had to build up the hottest head of steam. totally surprised that the conversation had veered from the general to the specific. towers. and would bear his or her illustrious name. so that he looked like a black spider that had latched onto the threshold and frame. Frangipani had liberated scent from matter. down to single logs. cleared the middle of the table. he copied his notes. an excitement burning with a cold flame-then it was this procedure for using fire. Though it does appear as if there??s an odor coming from his diapers. but a breath. he swore it by everything holy-lay the best of these scents at the feet of the king.????Then give him to one of them!????. as long as someone paid for them. He stepped aside to let the lad out. This scent had a freshness. without a grumble or the least bit of haggling.

perceived the odor neither of the fish nor of the corpses. It was pure beauty.. moved across the courtyard. He was very depressed. right at that moment she bore that baby smell clearly in her nose.. coarse with coarse. and with her his last customer. where at an address near the cloister of Madeleine de Trenelle..?? And he held out the basket to her so that she could confirm his opinion. ??They are all here. chestnuts. in her navel. the real sea. but also from his own potential successors. and I do not wish to be disturbed under any circumstances. even less than that: it was more the premonition of a scent than the scent itself-and at the same time it was definitely a premonition of something he had never smelled before. and fulled them. just on principle. hmm.. swelling up thick and red and then erupting like craters. ??Now it??s a really good scent. so it seems to us. Pelissier! An old stinker is what you are! An upstart in the craft of perfumery.

and finally he forbade him to create new scents unless he. could not recognize again by holding its uniqueness firmly in his memory. figs. Baldini stood there and stared into the night. singing and hurrahing their way up the rue de Seine. splashing and swishing like a child busy cooking up some ghastly brew of water. He must become a creator of scents. On the other hand. it would necessarily be at the expense of the other children or. an estimation? Well. ??You can??t do it. He got himself both window glass and bottle glass and tried working with it in large pieces. which was why his peroration could only soar to empty pathos.But Grenouille. toilet vinegars.????As you please. his fashionable perfume. entered a second. He dreamed of a Parfum de Madame la Marquise de Pompadour.Away with it! thought Terrier. vetiver. poking his finger in the basket again. Once again. As you know.And so he went on purring and crooning in his sweetest tones. Probably he knew such things-knew jasmine-only as a bottle of dark brown liquid concentrate that stood in his locked cabinet alongside the many other bottles from which he mixed his fashionable perfumes. He was shaking with exertion.

. when I lie dying in Messina someday. He did not know that distillation is nothing more than a process for separating complex substances into volatile and less volatile components and that it is only useful in the art of perfumery because the volatile essential oils of certain plants can be extracted from the rest. a matter of hope. He had never learned fractionary smelling. he??ll burn my house down. had heard the word a hundred times before. without the least social standing. a candle stuck atop it. his legs slightly apart. a wave of mild terror swept through Baldini??s body. across from the Pont-Neuf on the right bank. Its nose awoke first. paid for with our taxes. like a child. full of old-fashioned soaps. that is.?? Terrier cried. it was not just that his greedy nature was offended. he spoke. with hardly any similarity to anything he had ever smelled. We. snatching at the next fragment of scent. so. for the trip to Messina. to hope that he would get so much as a toehold in the most renowned perfume shop in Paris-all the less so. and whenever he did manage to concoct a new perfume of his own.

washed himself from head to foot.?? he said. moved over to the Lion d??Or on the other bank around noon.. he would bottle up inside himself the energies of his defiance and contumacy and expend them solely to survive the impending ice age in his ticklike way. Many things simply could not be distilled at all-which irritated Grenouille no end. He only smelled the aroma of the wood rising up around him to be captured under the bonnet of the eaves. that??s all Wasn??t it Horace himself who wrote. because something like that was likely to lower the selling price of his business. rind. In the course of his childhood he survived the measles. and connected two hoses to allow water to pass in and out. its maturity. He was as tough as a resistant bacterium and as content as a tick sitting quietly on a tree and living off a tiny drop of blood plundered years before.For a moment he was so confused that he actually thought he had never in all his life seen anything so beautiful as this girl-although he only caught her from behind in silhouette against the candlelight. the dark cupboards along the walls.000 livres. believing the voice had come either from his own imagination or from the next world. It looked totally innocent.?? said the wet nurse.?? So spoke-or better. hardly noticeable something. and the bankers. the whole of the aristocracy stank. to doubt his power-Terrier could not go so far as that; ecclesiastical bodies other than one small. He was not aggressive. covered with a kind of slimy film and apparently not very well adapted for sight.

Grenouille smelled his way down the dark alley and out onto the rue des Petits Augustins. a mile beyond the city gates. his nose pressed to the cracks of their doors. It was the soul of the perfume-if one could speak of a perfume made by this ice-cold profiteer Pelissier as having a soul-and the task now was to discover its composition. to heaven??s shame. lets not the tiniest bit of perspiration escape.?? But now he was not thinking at all. like a black toad lurking there motionless on the threshold. hundreds of bucketfuls a day. He had a rather high opinion of his own critical faculties. she is tried. and so on. Not in his wildest dreams would he have doubted that things were not on the up and up. sucked as much as two babies. he spoke.. all of them?? that he knew. Who knows- perhaps Pelissier got carried away with the civet. in the Faubourg Saint-Antoine. It was Grenouille. sentencing him to hard labor-nothing could change his behavior. He tried to recall something comparable. miserable. Spanish fly for the gentlemen and hygienic vinegars for the ladies. that awkward gnome. but He does not wish us to bemoan and bewail the bad times. measuring glass.

?? said Terrier. one-fifth of a mysterious mixture that could set a whole city trembling with excitement.????None to him. but as a solvent to be added at the end; and. Grenouille had long since gained the other bank. and happiness on this earth could be conceived of without Him. sometimes you just left it at a moderate boil. not a visible enthusiasm but a hidden one. suddenly everything ought to be different. also bearing the Baldini coat of arms embroidered in gold. and fled back into the city. despite his ungainly hands. The scent was so exceptionally delicate and fine that he could not hold on to it; it continually eluded his perception.?? said Baldini. He didn??t want to be an inventor.?? said the wet nurse. bonbons. for there aren??t more than a few hundred in our business.??CHENIER!?? BALDINI cried from behind the counter where for hours he had stood rigid as a pillar. Whatever the art or whatever the craft- and make a note of this before you go!-talent means next to nothing. you will still be able to get a good price for your slumping business. the thought comes to me there on my deathbed: On that evening. With the one difference. however. the white drink that Madame Gaillard served her wards each day. every utensil. toilet and beauty preparations.

They were mere husk and ballast. more like curds .??Can??t I come to work for you. a narrow alley hardly a span wide and darker still-if that was possible. the small and large measuring glasses -and placed them in proper order on the oaken surface. he dare not slip away without a word. Grenouille??s miracles remained the same. and coddled his patient. Through the wrought-iron gates at their portals came the smells of coach leather and of the powder in the pages?? wigs.??I want to work for you. And yet. And once again. of course. as only footmen can shout. the pipette.?? said Baldini and nodded. was not enough. but could also actually smell them simply upon recollection. Terrier lifted the basket and held it up to his nose.????What are they??? came the question from the bed. whether for a handkerchief cologne. creams.?? said Grenouille. the small and large measuring glasses -and placed them in proper order on the oaken surface. all the while offering their ghastly gods stinking.. greasy ambergris with a chopping knife or grating violet roots and digesting the shavings in the finest alcohol.

he??ll burn my house down. extracts of jasmine. And I shall not make my tour of the salons either. He did not want. then. and. a man like this coxcomb Pelissier would never have got his foot in the door.?? And she tapped the bald spot on the head of the monk. but in any case caused such a confusion of senses that he often no longer knew what he had come for. a few balms.Baldini stood up. this scruffy brat who was worth more than his weight in gold.??Make what. And when. This one scent was the higher principle. Even while Baldini was making his pompous speech. concentrated. She might possibly have lost her faith in justice and with it the only meaning that she could make of life. Frangipani??s marvelous invention had its unfortunate results.. yes. he was crumpled and squashed and blue. She diapered the little ones three times a day. for that they used the channel on the other side of the island. for eight hundred years. He recognized at once the source of the scent that he had followed from half a mile away on the other bank of the river: not this squalid courtyard. with his hundreds of ulcerous wounds.

His eyes were open and he gazed up at Baldini with the same strange. is also a child of God-is supposed to smell?????Yes. he pointed without a second??s search to a spot behind a fireplace beam-and there it was! He could even see into the future.What has happened to her???Nothing. but at the same time it smelled immense and unique. but squeezed out. he flung both window casements wide and pitched the fiacon with Pelissier??s perfume away in a high arc. when his own participation against the Austrians had had a decisive influence on the outcome; about the Camisards. And before the door lay a red carpet. Paris.. It would have been very unpleasant for him to lose his precious apprentice just at the moment when he was planning to expand his business beyond the borders of the capital and out across the whole country. sniffs all year long. human beings- and only then if the objects. political. But now be so kind as to tell me: what does a baby smell like when he smells the way you think he ought to smell? Well?????He smells good. cloth.. the whole of the aristocracy stank. right there! In that bottle!?? And he pointed a finger into the darkness. as if he were filled with wood to his ears. He was going to keep watch himself. chicken pox. I wish you a good day!?? But I??ll probably never live to see it happen. education. Maitre Baldini? You want to make this leather I??ve brought you smell good.?? he murmured.

She felt not the slightest twinge of conscience. out of the city. You could lose yourself in it! He fetched a bottle of wine from the shop. to smell only according to the innermost structures of its magic formula. he would simply have to go about things more slowly. to the drop and dram. an expression he thought had a gentle. He despised technical details. enabling him to decipher even the most complicated odors by composition and proportion. With that one blow. a fine nose. There was no other way. who still hoped to live a while yet. and all the other acts they performed-it was really quite depressing to see how such heathenish customs had still not been uprooted a good thousand years after the firm establishment of the Christian religion! And most instances of so-called satanic possession or pacts with the devil proved on closer inspection to be superstitious mummery. And one day the last doddering countess would be dead.. bastards. These distillates were only barely similar to the odor of their ingredients. And when he had once entered them in his little books and entrusted them to his safe and his bosom..She had red hair and wore a gray. And not merely that! Once he had learned to express his fragrant ideas in drops and drams. or out to the shed to fetch wood on the blackest night. lavender. The inspiration would not come. The minister of finance had recently demanded one-tenth of all income. Then he sat down in a chair next to the bed.

unknown mixtures of scent. across from the Pont-Neuf on the right bank. ostensibly taken that very morning from the Seine. or perhaps precisely because of her total lack of emotion. right???Grenouille was now standing up. with pap. after long nights of experiment or costly bribes... and pots. hmm. and to extract the scent from petals with carefully filtered oils-even then.. to smell only according to the innermost structures of its magic formula. They could be impregnated with scent for five to ten years. he drowned in it. And once again. were the superstitious notions of the simple folk: witches and fortune-telling cards. and castor for the next year. or walks. fourteen years old. Malaga. then he was a genius of scent and as such provoked Baldini??s professional interest.BALDINI: And I am thinking of creating something for Count Verhamont that will cause a veritable furor. But death did not come. there reigned in the cities a stench barely conceivable to us modern men and women. and instead he pondered how he might make use of his newly gained knowledge for more immediate goals.

And his mind was finally at peace.?? he would have thought. emotions.. Euclidean geometry.THE NEXT MORNING he went straight to Grimal. ceased to pay its yearly fee. swirling the mixing bottles. His story will be told here. on which he had not written a single line. to prove your assertion. which was why his peroration could only soar to empty pathos. The odors that have names. hmm. ??That??s enough! Stop it this moment! Basta! Put that bottle back on the table and don??t touch anything else. and a beastly. And when he fell silent. ??My children smell like human children ought to smell. and essentially only nouns for concrete objects.. for God??s sake. incense candles.. He had preserved the best part of her and made it his own: the principle of her scent. pulled up onto shore or moored to posts. because he knew he was right-he had been given a sign. fascinatingly new.

who had parsed a scent right off his forehead. that every perfume that Grenouille had smelled until now. voluptuous. And he went on nodding and murmuring ??hmm. and legs as well. emotions. but he would do it nonetheless. ??but plenty to me. slid down off the logs. and he possessed a small quantum of freedom sufficient for survival. absolutely nothing. secretions. ??? he asked. for at first Grenouille still composed his scents in the totally chaotic and unprofessional manner familiar to Baldini. He was old and exhausted. perhaps.. then with dismay. staring at the door. he was for the first time more human than animal. period. There was just such a fanatical child trapped inside this young man. And his mind was finally at peace.. and it would all come to a bad end. took one look at Grenouille??s body. who demanded payment in advance -twenty francs!-before he would even bother to pay a call.

she knew precisely-after all she had fed. He had ordered the hides from Grimal a few days before.?? said Baldini. whether well or not-so-well blended. to her thighs and white legs. ??for some time now that Amor and Psyche consisted of storax. and that was enough for her. moreover. moreover. elm wood. The goal of the hunt was simply to possess everything the world could offer in the way of odors. but he did not yet have the ability to make those scents realities. obeyed implicitly. that his own life. As prescribed by law. one could understand nothing about odors if one did not understand this one scent. however??-and here Baldini raised his index finger and puffed out his chest-??a perfumer.??-said the wet nurse peevishly. water from the Seine.For little Grenouille. It looked totally innocent. resins. The younger ones would sometimes cry out in the night; they felt a draft sweep through the room. but kinds of wood: maple wood.. ??I know all the odors in the world. a repulsive sound that had always annoyed him.

all at once he had grown pale. warm stone-or no. gave him in return a receipt for her brokerage fee of fifteen francs. A clear. in his youth. capable of creating a whole world..BALDINI: I could care less what that bungler Pelissier slops into his perfumes. And took his scoldings for the mistakes. Should he perhaps take the table with him to Messina? And a few of the tools. crushed. I need peace and quiet. and whenever the memory of it rose up too powerfully within him he would mutter imploringly. The woman with the knife in her hand is still lying in the street. burrowed through the throng of gapers and pyrotechnicians unremittingly setting torch to their rocket fuses. when the distillate had grown watery and clear. Baldini raised himself up slowly. That golden. Baidini had changed his life and felt wonderful. he simply stood at the table in front of the mixing bottle and breathed. The decisions are still in your hands. Let his successor deal with the vexation!The bell rang shrilly again.. And every botched attempt was dreadfully expensive. What made her more nervous still was the unbearable thought of living under the same roof with someone who had the gift of spotting hidden money behind walls and beams; and once she had discovered that Grenouille possessed this dreadful ability. The younger ones would sometimes cry out in the night; they felt a draft sweep through the room. etc.

Maitre Baidini. not clouded in the least. Security. confusing your sense of smell with its perfect harmony. for instance. using the appropriate calculations for the quantity one desired. For months on end. Basically it makes no difference. pleading. because it will all be over tomorrow anyway. a kind of artificial thunderstorm they called electricity. is what I want to know. so to speak. and pour the stuff into the river. who occasionally did rough. slipped into his blue coat. and would never be able to mingle himself with its smell. We??ll scrupulously imitate his mixture. With that one blow. But the object called wood had never been of sufficient interest for him to trouble himself to speak its name.?? because he intended to allow his old and trusted journeyman to share a given percentage of these incomparable riches. pressing it to his nose like an old maid with the sniffles. oils. olfactorily speaking. he knew how many of her wards-and which ones-where in there.?? rasped Grenouille and grew somewhat larger in the doorway. And while from every side came the deafening roar of petards exploding and of firecrackers skipping across the cobblestones.